


I know why the caged bird sings

by nefelibata



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Ableist Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, M/M, Panic Attacks, Suicide mention, a disproportionate amount of swears, band au, death mention, tags to be added as I go!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 02:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10323578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefelibata/pseuds/nefelibata
Summary: He started his gigs the way he finished them; without preamble, phasing in and out of silence so naturally it’s as if you wake up in a daze when it’s permanently gone. Introductions were for people who wanted to be known, it sent shivers up Neil’s spine just being heard.Where everything is the same but instead of Exy it's music.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first aftg fic! I'm really excited to start this fic as I couldn't get it out of my head for ages. A huge thank you to @allisonreynoldsofficial (follow his tumblr it's super great) for beta-ing my gross drafts into something readable. The title is from Maya Angelou's poem of the same name. Hope you enjoy!

The bar was small, dark, nondescript, and sparsely populated only by regulars that didn’t give a damn about anything but getting to the bottom of their drinks. In Neil’s opinion, it ticked all the boxes for a good venue, but his eyes still darted around the place incessantly, cataloging exits (3 in total: front door, side door, employee door behind the bar), the quickest routes to those exits, and faces- at least the ones he could see in the dim lighting. In the back left corner of the room, the one that held the most murky blackness due to a blown bulb that hadn’t yet been replaced, Neil sat on a borrowed stool, with a borrowed mic and speaker that the owner had dug up from the back room. The only things that Neil could concretely call his was the guitar in his hands and the duffel bag resting at his feet.

Neil didn’t need cash, courtesy of the faux-inheritance his mother left him, but the rational part of his brain knew that the money wouldn’t last forever; though it also knew that the $50 and free meal he got for gigs wouldn’t really make a difference. There was a lot of easier ways of getting cash, sure, but with Neil’s life of run-and-go this was the most convenient. He wouldn’t let himself think that maybe he did this because it broke up the monotony of his life; maybe he did this because it was the only part of his childhood he couldn’t give up.

Settling back on his stool, he gave an experimental strum of his guitar to make sure it was all in tune, before settling his calloused fingers in place and gently plucking out the first notes. He started his gigs the way he finished them; without preamble, phasing in and out of silence so naturally it’s as if you wake up in a daze when it’s permanently gone. Introductions were for people who wanted to be known, it sent shivers up Neil’s spine just being heard.

The covers he played were songs heard and learned on long car trips with his Mother; she didn’t mind the habit as long as he kept it to himself, as long as the guitar wouldn’t hinder them if they needed to run. He listened to the songs and tried to translate them by ear, and was thankful that the radio stations were so repetitive as it meant he could correct his mistakes or re-listen to parts he couldn’t remember. The breaks in-between gave him artistic licence; those he was also thankful for as it meant he could make the song his. Because of this, he tended to get lost in the songs whenever he played them; his fingers instinctively picking out melodies, his mind on car seats and smoke and his Mother’s gentle singing. On bad days the songs brought to mind smoke of a different kind, the rip of dried blood peeling from vinyl car seats, the smell of salt. Neil felt eyes on him and he knew he was getting too caught up in the music, so he reigned in his voice and hunched over in his seat, the pose uncomfortable with his guitar in the way. Even so, he kept his eyes on his fingers and kept playing, willing himself smaller, making his stage presence so weak that the eyes would just bounce off. However, he could feel the heavy weight of scrutiny the entire night, and Neil ended up collecting his money and leaving the bar paranoid and on-edge.

Taking the side exit was a natural response to Neil’s growing suspicion, the door opening to a dimly lit alleyway. The weak light from the streetlamps shining through the exits at either end cast weird shadows that gave Neil jitters when he looked into them. Neil never knew where he stood with darkness; he never knew when it was friend or foe.

A small sound to his right, shoes scuffing on worn concrete, told Neil’s instincts that tonight it was going to be the latter, and he took off running in the other direction, guitar bouncing against his back, duffel safely tucked underneath his arm. It was too late when Neil realised that the right exit wasn’t the only one sealed off, and the world moved in slow motion as a leg came up in a roundhouse kick straight into his stomach. The next 30 seconds were shown to Neil in fractured increments; the colour gold, concrete rushing to meet him, the scrape of it on his face and hands, his knees undoubtedly forming bruises beneath the fabric of his jeans.

“Andrew!” a gruff voice said, the sound distorted from the ringing in Neil’s ears, “God, I did not just spend an entire night in a bar not drinking for you to break him the first chance you get.”

Neil’s lungs finally stopped spasming inside his ribcage and he gave a great wracking inhale, the oxygen scraping against his throat and threatening to burst him with how much his chest expanded to accommodate it. His vision had begun to steady out, and he looked up at the figure towering above him as they gave a noncommittal grunt.

“Something tells me he won’t be broken so easily. If so he’d be a terrible disappointment.”

Neil gave a spluttering cough and managed to lift his hand up in a shaky attempt of flipping the bird at the silhouette named Andrew, before wrapping an arm around his middle and beginning the slow struggle of getting to his feet, his duffel thankfully still secure on his shoulder. He’d have to check his guitar for damages once he got out of this mess.

Turning his head to the side, Neil spat and then slowly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Who the fuck are you?” he growled at the figure, his face still mostly obscured in shadow. 

“Look at me, and if you’re still that much of an oblivious idiot ask that question again,” the figure replied, before stepping closer; enough that what feeble light there was made his face visible.

Even if Neil didn’t recognise him by the facial features, the stark black number 2 tattooed on his cheekbone would be a dead giveaway. Neil took a step back, his limbs suddenly trembling, his blood seemingly ceasing its circulation. Kevin Day, piano prodigy, said to rival Bach and Mozart in terms of both playing and composing; though he was always the second to Riko Moriyama’s first, even though Riko played violin. The world was taken aback by the news of Kevin’s abrupt skiing accident, and subsequently the fact that Kevin would never play again. He dropped of the face of the earth, the tabloids suggesting that he was too ashamed to enter the real world, and that perhaps he was too sheltered to do so. They said that spending his entire life at Edgar Allen Music Academy left him unprepared for any semblance of life outside of music.

Neil didn’t want to think of the last time he saw Kevin. Back when he still played classical, and when his father made them watch as he carved a man up alive. The whole ordeal was burned into his memory, but most of all he could see the man’s hands; the fingers cut off at each joint, one by one, leaving 14 little pieces and a palm in place.

“Are you going to ask again?” said Kevin. He phrased it like a question even though Neil knew that it wasn’t. He dumbly shook his head. “Good,” Kevin continued. He gestured to the man next to him, “this is Andrew Minyard, and you are Neil Josten. We got your name off of the bar manager.” Neil once again nodded; he was glad that he wouldn’t have to say his name in front of Kevin, Neil knew that if he tried he might slip up, and as he cast a wary look towards Andrew he knew that any kind of small slip up would cause a very big problem.

“What do you want?” Neil asked. This time, his voice was less of a growl and more measured, controlled. He’d managed to keep the tremble out, a mask descending over his features. He covered his shaking hands with his sleeves. 

“I want you to be our band’s lead singer,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Neil’s brain froze for a second, re-wound, and then slowly stuttered back to life.

“Band?” he asked first, the bewilderment apparently evident on his face by the way that the corners of Kevin’s mouth turned down, “but I thought your career was over? You can’t play.”

At that Kevin’s frown turned into a full-on scowl.

“Evidently you thought wrong. I predominantly play with my left hand now, the right I use for synths. Andrew plays bass, his brother Aaron plays drums, their cousin Nicky plays guitar. We can all sing decently but decent isn’t good enough if we want to make it; that’s why you’re here.”

“Why me though?” countered Neil, “you could’ve asked any singer in any dingy bar and yet you chose me. I know for a fact that I’m not amazing,” he made sure of it, really, “why don’t you go annoy someone else with your deranged attempts at clawing back into relevance.”

Kevin was seething now, but even so he continued, forcing out words between clenched teeth.

“That’s true. Your technique is shit, your stage presence even worse, and you don’t even have your own equipment, however,” his face smoothed out into something that looked a little bit deeper than determination, “you play like you have everything to lose, and we need that.”

Trepidation made Neil sick to his stomach. In the low light, it wasn’t surprising that Kevin didn’t recognise him, but Neil didn’t know if that would hold steady in the day. Accepting Kevin’s offer would go against everything his Mother would have wanted for him, everything she told him to do that night on the beach.

“Listen,” Andrew’s voice shocked him out of his inner thoughts, “you’re hanging onto that duffle bag for dear life, you look like something chewed you up and spit you out, and you’re so jumpy you look as if you’re going to take off sprinting at any moment. Either you’re on some kind of hard drug or you’re homeless, but I’m going to assume the latter,” this is the most that Neil’s heard Andrew speak, and he was almost surprised at the bored tone of his voice, the bruise forming on Neil’s stomach spoke volumes of the pent-up energy Andrew held. He was wary of the way Andrew had picked apart his nervous habits and his appearance, it was true that Neil hadn’t had anywhere decent to sleep since he got to this town; this gig would have bought him some groceries and a couple of nights in a shitty motel.

“If you humour Kevin I’ll make sure you have a place to stay and food to eat, at least until you decide to fuck off or until Kevin gets rid of you. Deal?” he raised his eyebrow and waited for an answer.

Andrew had made sure to specify the temporariness of the deal; he was aware that he had given Neil the option to run if he so chose, and the fact of that wasn’t lost. Neil mulled it over in his mind, weighing the pros and cons, and decided that the arrangement was almost too good, but impossible to resist. There was a chance that playing in this band would allow Neil to actually live instead of just survive, even if it was just for a little while. Before he could lose his nerve he looked Andrew in the eye and nodded, his grip on the strap of his duffle white-knuckled in its extremity. Neil noticed his hands were no longer shaking.

“Fine. I agree.”

“Good, happy now Kevin?” Kevin pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Neil, but nodded nonetheless. 

“Good,” Andrew repeated, “now let’s get out of this alley. I’m fucking freezing, and it’s around time for Neil to meet his new housemates.”

He could probably read the alarm in Neil’s eyes, “deal starts tonight, you’re coming home with us,” he elaborated, his voice slow and steady,

“I’m fine,” Neil said, he needed time to gather his thoughts, to armour himself.

“No excuses,” Kevin spoke up, “you’ll need to be up early for practice tomorrow anyway, it makes sense to travel with us. Come on.”

He started walking towards the street, leaving Neil and Andrew in their own private staring match.

“For the record, I don’t trust you,” Andrew said, “but if it’ll make Kevin stop whining about how lackluster our singing voices are I’m willing to settle.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Neil replied. He’d have to be very careful around someone who could see through him so quickly.

“Glad we’re on the same page then.”

Andrew waved his hands in an ‘after you’ gesture and Neil followed after Kevin, walking slow enough to ensure that Andrew was always in his peripheral vision. He was itching to check the roots of his hair, but he kept his hands moving naturally as he walked. He could check them when he had a bathroom to himself; when he had time for the absurdity of the situation to hit him. Until then, he followed behind Kevin, one foot after another.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Just a note- I am adding tags as I go along, so make sure you check them before each chapter just in case. If a tag that's already been put down also shows up in a later chapter I'll put a warning in the notes. And if you're afraid that something will especially trigger you, just comment and I'll be happy to summarise the chapter for you. Thank you very much for reading!

Knowing that Kevin had been a highly sought-after musician since he was six years old, Neil wasn’t surprised when he was led to an obviously expensive, sleek black car. However, what did surprise him was the fact that Andrew, not Kevin, pulled the car remote out of his pocket.

“Duffle in the trunk. The guitar can go on the back seat with you.”

Neil rushed to comply, even though he was loathe to leave his duffle alone. He noticed Kevin beeline straight for the shotgun seat whilst Andrew entered the driver’s side. As he slid into the backseat, Kevin caught his confused gaze in the mirror; the way it bounced between him and Andrew, and correctly guessed his unspoken question.

“If you think I would waste money on a laughably frivolous thing like this car, you’re more stupid than I thought.”

Neil’s questioning gaze moved to Andrew, who was busy reversing. Still, he raised his eyebrow.

“Best and only gift my mother’s given me.”

Neil turned that over in his mind as Andrew started driving. Andrew drove recklessly and dangerously; weaving through streets and around cars like a needle through thread, seemingly ignorant of the horns beeping at his barely-announced turns and merges. The radio was tuned to a generics hits station that none of them were listening to, and Neil was watching the scenery flash past in a blur. He let the mundanity of it all lull him and let his mind go blank.

Their destination was a two-story house painted an off-white, a small porch wrapping around the front. It was all very… normal; more normal than Neil would have really given Andrew and Kevin credit for. There weren’t any other cars in the driveway, though Neil noticed that some lights in the house were on.

“How many people, exactly, do you live with?” Neil asked, trepidation suddenly worming its way into his stomach. The last time he had been in a house with a large number of people was when he was still living with his father.

“The whole band,” Kevin answered, “since they’re all Andrew’s family it makes sense for them to live with us, as well as the fact it’s just more convenient.”

“The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb,” Andrew responded smoothly, “which reminds me. I need to have a word with Neil, so why don’t you go warn Aaron and Nicky of our arrival.”

Kevin opened his mouth halfway, presumably to argue, however he thought better of it when Andrew sent him a look. With only minimal huff, he levered himself out of the car and marched to the front door, which he opened with his own keys and disappeared into.

“Front seat,” Andrew said, releasing his hands from their grip on the steering wheel and turning to rummage for something in his door. By the time Neil had gotten out of the car and re-entered on the passenger's side, Andrew had dug out a packet of Marlboro Reds. He shook out a cigarette from the half-empty packet, lit it with a rectangular silver lighter, and took a drag; holding the smoke in his lungs while giving Neil an assessing gaze before blowing the smoke out the window.

It reminded him terribly of his mother.

“One house rule you should probably know, as I’m feeling quite generous today,” he flicked the ash from the tip of his cigarette out the window, “don’t touch my things. There will be consequences if you do.”

Neil knew innately that when Andrew said ‘things’, he didn’t actually mean objects. 

“I thought you said being related doesn’t mean you’re family,” Neil replied. The smell of the smoke made Neil more relaxed than he really should be, even though Neil’s mother smoked Sterlings. 

Andrew gave him a blank stare before raising the cigarette to his lips, “no, it doesn’t,” he said, “but I keep my promises, no matter who I make them with.”

“Well don’t worry, I’m not interested,” Neil was aching to take the cigarette packet out of Andrew’s hands and light them one by one. Instead, Andrew stubbed his out.

“I don’t worry. Get your stuff.”

Neil did as he was told, and Andrew didn’t wait for him; when he opened the trunk to pull out his duffle, the familiar weight comforting, he heard the locks pop and looked over to see Andrew already walking into the house. Neil slammed it closed and made sure his duffel strap was secured around his shoulder, before deciding he couldn’t put it off any longer and followed after Andrew. He closed the front door behind him on his way in, and followed voices deeper into the house.

There were four people in the living room. Andrew was just settling into an armchair whilst Kevin was lounging on the couch. Two people who must’ve been Nicky and Aaron were sitting in bean bags near the flat screen TV, which was paused on some type of game. They were both looking at Neil. Immediately Neil knew which one was Aaron; he looked exactly like Andrew except for a few minor differences- while Andrew’s shoulders were broad Aaron’s were narrower, where Andrew’s hair was grown out so that it curled around the nape of his neck Aaron’s was cropped neatly. Aaron was also without the armbands that Andrew wore, even though the rest of their fashion sense was quite similar from what Neil could see- consisting of dark shirts and simple but expensive-looking jeans.

Which meant the person sitting in the other beanbag was most likely their cousin Nicky, though Nicky didn’t look anything like the twins. His skin was a chestnut brown, dark in comparison to their fair skin. His hair, black and falling to his shoulders in loose waves, and his eyes, ebony enough that the pupils almost got lost in them, were also a stark contrast to his cousin’s light gold colouring. He was the first one to greet Neil with a wide smile full of white teeth.

“You must be Neil,” he said, trying and failing to get out of his beanbag before just rolling out of it. Beside him, Aaron snorted.

“Just wait ‘till you try to get out of yours,” Nicky countered, then held out a hand, presumably for Neil to shake, “I’m Nicholas Hemmick, you can call me Nicky if you let me call you anytime.”

Neil heard a groan, though he was too busy staring at Nicky’s outstretched hand until the offending extremity was lowered. Nicky wiped his palm on his pants, his smile slightly dimmed but still wide. 

“Kevin’s given us the basic rundown of why you’re here, so I’d like to formally welcome you to the band. We call ourselves Collateral Damage though the name is subject to change if you have any ideas. Our setup is in the basement, but it also acts as Kevin’s room because he’s a music freak and if he’s separated from it for like .2 seconds he stops functioning. Practice normally starts just after lunch because we run on Kevin Time and Kevin Time doesn’t exist until at least 9:30.”

Neil observed that Nicky very much liked to talk. He slightly tuned out after Nicky told him he’d be sleeping on the couch as they only have three other bedrooms, and directed his mind towards more pressing matters, such as where to stow his duffle. For now he’d just have to keep it on his person until he got a safe or something comparable the next day. 

“And that’s basically the rundown!” Nicky declared, clapping his hands and startling Neil out of his thoughts. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Andrew watching him like a hawk.

“You forgot one thing,” Andrew said, tapping his fingers on the edge of his armchair; a pitter-patter sound, onetwothreefourfive, “I think we should take Neil out, an initiation if you will, perhaps at Eden’s.”

The responses to Andrew’s suggestion ranged from appalled to dismayed, and Kevin responded with a straight up, “no.”

Neil knew that whatever Andrew suggested, it wasn’t good.

To Neil’s surprise, Nicky spoke next in German, “Andrew you know what happened to the last potential band member we hired who you took to Eden’s. She almost straight-up killed herself. You can’t let that happen again.”

“You know that I will not let threats into my house unless I correctly prepare for them,” Andrew replied, also switching to German, “and Janie would’ve done it anyway, I just helped her along.”

It seemed as if Kevin didn’t speak the language, seeing as he was following the cousin’s exchange as if watching a tennis match. Aaron was looking on with slight interest, which made Neil assume that he shared the language with his relatives. 

“Why don’t you get to know him like, I don’t know, a normal person?” Nicky exclaimed, then darted his eyes towards Neil and continued in a lower voice, “if you actually find any damning evidence against him then I can’t stop you, but at least give him a chance, please.”

Andrew’s eyes narrowed and his mouth turned vaguely into a sneer. It was the most emotion Neil had seen him convey yet. 

“You know I hate that word,” he snarled in English, before turning to Kevin, “and you?”

Kevin looked taken aback for a moment before settling his features into a good impression of a blank canvas.

“I won’t have you ruin our chance. He might be our only shot.”

Neil thought that they’d probably forgotten he was in the room.

Andrew growled unintelligibly before grabbing Kevin by the collar. Shock registered on Kevin’s face.

“I will keep my promise, no matter how much to try to undermine it with your stupidity.”

Andrew gave Neil one last scathing look before marching out of the room; Neil could hear his footsteps go up the stairs.

“Well,” Aaron deadpanned, “as interesting as that was, he’s going to be a real pain in the ass to deal with tomorrow,” he shot a glare at Neil, as if it was wholly his fault, “I’m going to bed.”

Aaron followed after his brother, and Nicky soon left as well, with a parting look at Neil. Kevin rose from his spot on the couch, and began making his way out too; though stopped halfway across the room and turned to Neil.

“I don’t care what you do in your free time, just make sure you’re here for practice. And try not to aggravate Andrew too much, he’s vicious.”

“Thanks for the warning,” Neil said drily, and Kevin shrugged and left the room.

Left alone to his thoughts, Neil went through the motions of his before-bed routine. Staying still to check that no one was coming downstairs again, he opened his duffel and began unpacking all his things, checking and double-checking the items in there. He’d have to stock up on hair dye and buy himself some toiletries, as there won’t be any shitty motel soap and he won’t stoop so low as to use some that belonged to the household. The last item in his bag, buried under everything, was an unassuming black binder, which he quickly rifled through to check that everything was in its place before painstakingly packing everything back in. It all fit perfectly.

He climbed onto the couch, setting a pillow behind his head and a blanket over his body. Neil assumed they were left by Nicky, he was sure that none of the others were civil enough to even think of it. Neil kept his duffle bag squeezed between him and the back of the couch; and even though its sharp edges were pressing into him it was still the most comfortable sleeping arrangement he’d had in days. 

Even though he was bone-tired and sore, Neil slept lightly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that Neil is half british means I can force all of my british slang on him and I think that's beautiful. However the same can't be said of my aussie slang so if that manages to slip through I apologise

Almost a decade of experience had trained Neil to be instantly awake and alert as soon as he woke up, and because he was such a light sleeper the slightest hint of daylight would wake him. The first sliver of sunlight peeked through the living room windows at around 6 in the morning, and as soon as Neil was up he initiated his plan; he had a limited amount of time to do what he needed to do. From the small amount of Nicky’s ramblings that Neil listened to, he knew that usually everyone except Kevin was up before 9:30, but the fact he didn’t know exactly when set Neil’s teeth on edge. Nevertheless, waiting a few days to memorise everyone’s sleeping patterns and leaving his things vulnerable had a slightly higher risk than leaving his duffle alone for a few hours. Neil would take his duffle along with him but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to juggle all the things he had to buy along with it, even if the store as only 10 minutes away by foot. 

Neil should be thankful for that, at least, if there was only one constant in his life it was a 24hr Walmart.

After searching for the bathroom as quietly as possible so that he could brush his teeth and change his clothes, Neil took a wad of cash out of his duffle and shoved the duffle under the couch; it was the only place he could think to store it where someone wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it. Making sure the money as secure in his pocket and pausing once to make sure he didn’t hear anyone starting to wake up, Neil left; ensuring that the front door was unlocked so that he could get back in when he was finished.

Running was an activity Neil did often; it kept his body fit and helped increase his lung capacity and strength. He wouldn’t necessarily say that he liked running, it was more of a habit he formed over the years that stuck and had become second nature to him. When he felt the need to run, it was like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch- a borderline addiction. 

At the store, he gathered the things he needed as quickly as possible- hair dye, toiletries, an extra pillow and blanket as the ones Neil slept with last night were threadbare, and he might as well make the most of comfort while he could. He then made his way to the hardware section, where there was a limited choice of fireproof safes, none of them big enough to hold his entire duffle. However, they were big enough to hide the one thing that he needed to hide, so he lugged one to the checkout with all his other items, and awkwardly walked back to the house.

He made good time, slipping through the front door as silently as possible before pausing and straining his ears for any sign of movement. Satisfied with the following silence, Neil breathed a little easier, and moved to the living room to deposit his things on the couch before pulling his duffel bag out from underneath it.

Neil’s breath stopped when he opened his duffel and examined the contents. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be, folded and arranged so that it fit perfectly into the bag, however on closer examination the contents weren’t exactly how Neil had left them. He had inherited his Mother’s paranoia, so whenever he repacked his things he made sure to carefully fold each of his shirt tags in half; at that moment, they were perfectly straight, pressed flat by a meticulous hand.

He began digging through the insides of his bag, throwing his clothing to the side, hands impatient in their quest to get to the bottom, to the most important item in his possession- his binder. It was unassuming, a previously sleek black, the finish having been worn away a long time ago by nervous hands. Inside the binder looked like a stalker’s journal- photos, newspaper clippings, anything he could find that touched the subject of Kevin Day’s and Riko Moriyama’s lives and careers. But these pages were just a cover-up for the real reason Neil kept this binder. He opened up the pockets that the sheets made, finding the legacy of his Mother; fat stacks of hundred-dollar bills, a coded list of emergency contacts including his Uncle Stuart’s number, and a forged optometrist’s note along with a box of brown contacts. He counted through the money carefully, finding that it was the same amount as the last time he checked- just about a quarter of a million dollars. With all his security checks done, Neil stowed his binder in his new safe, stowed his things back in his duffel, and tried to fight against the red-hot anger that struggled to overtake him.

The fight was futile, after all he was his father’s son.

Underneath the sole of his shoe Neil had hidden his lockpicks, which he pulled out in a furious daze. If he was telling the truth, Neil wasn’t just furious at the person who had gone through his bag (he knew it was Andrew, he had always known to trust his instincts. Also, Neil wasn’t dumb), he was furious at himself for making so many mistakes in only two days; his Mother would have beaten him black and blue if she were here. Neil shook the thought out of his mind and marched up the stairs, knocking loudly and vigorously on the first door he came across, which was soon opened by a sleep-rumpled Nicky.

“Which room is Andrew’s?” Neil all but hissed.

“To the right,” Nicky yawned, scratching at his stomach, “Why? What ti-”

Before Nicky could finish, Neil had already made his way over to the door, crouched down, and started efficiently picking the lock. The lock was standard, no match for Neil, he had picked more difficult locks in the past. Nicky still stood in his doorway, watching Neil with his mouth half-open, looking as if the current circumstances hadn’t quite reached his brain yet.

Neil heard the lock click which finally prompted Nicky’s mouth to snap shut and then open again, presumably in preparation of forming a sentence, but Neil had already stepped inside the room to find Andrew sitting on a desk, smoking out of the window.

“Neil,” he said, “what a surprise.”

Neil slammed the door shut in Nicky’s face and stepped forward once more. He briefly thought of the phrase ‘stepping into the lion’s den’, and thought it an apt description of the current circumstances he was facing. Even so, he was angry; and when Neil got angry he got reckless.

“Stay out of my things,” he growled, “or I swear I’ll make you regret it.”

“Will you now?” Andrew raised his eyebrow, “and how would you do that?” he tapped the end of his cigarette consideringly, “Well, you could be quite creative- anything’s possible with the amount of money you carry.”

“Fuck off, you had no right.”

“Call it intuition, runaway.”

Neil barely suppressed a flinch, by the way his eyebrows slightly raised Andrew noticed.

“Now I have an idea of how to deal with you, and an even more complex conundrum to solve. Everybody wins!”

The fake-cheer in Andrew’s voice as disconcerting against his normal apathetic tone. When he continued the inflection was gone, as though it never happened.

“Do you want to hear a story, Neil? Though if my hypothesis is correct, you may already know it.”

“I don’t want to hear a single word of shit that spews from your obnoxious mouth.”

“Are you sure? As it involves both Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama; two people you apparently have a raging hard-on for, if that binder is anything to go by.” 

Neil didn’t want to affirm Andrew’s statement by staying silent, but Andrew continued before he had the chance to reply.

“You see,” he said, “once upon a time, Riko and Kevin were a duo, thick as thieves, number one and number two. Number one being Riko, as you probably already know; Kevin being shunted to second best. But you see, Kevin, being the golden child that he is was just too good for that, and started outgrowing the number 2 on his cheekbone. Riko very much didn’t like it. Riko is a bit of a brat with quite a bit of power, and he has people who are loyal to him- or at least to his fame. So he has a tantrum, eliminates the threat,” Andrew stretched out his hand, spread wide open so that it covered Neil’s face, slowly dawning with realisation. He clenched his fingers shut a few times before continuing.

“So Kevin’s hand is broken in a ‘skiing accident’ according to Riko’s PR team, and Kevin is left to pick up the pieces,” Andrew then lowers his arm slowly, and looks at Neil, his gaze piercing, “and as soon as Kevin starts to get back on track, you show up- a boy made of secrets and lies with an insofar unexplainable tie to Kevin and Riko. You get where I’m going with this?”

“You think I’m trying to… infiltrate? For Riko? You must be as dense as you are insane.”

“Then prove that you aren’t, because you’re sure as hell not convincing me right now. Give me something real in your counterfeit.”

Neil didn’t get the chance to answer, as Kevin chose that moment to burst through the door, Nicky following on his heels, a hurricane just strong enough to break the tension.

“What the fuck is going on? Nicky wakes me up at 7:30 in the fucking morning babbling about fucking lock picking? Explain yourselves, especially you,” he glowered at Neil.

Neil’s blood boiled, he could only put up with so much shit and Kevin talking to him like he was an insect was just the icing on the cake. Aaron had also woken up from the noise and went to stand next to Nicky, scowling at anything and everyone.

“What the fuck is his problem?” Aaron said in German, eyes flickering over to Neil, and it was the cherry on top. But two could play at the different languages game, so Neil switched to French; he knew that Kevin had spent a few years there in his youth.

“Put a fucking leash on your mutt or I will. I’ve only been here one night and he’s already trying my patience. I will not tolerate him invading my privacy again, tell me you understand.”

There was a pause, silence descending over the room as Kevin visibly processed the abrupt change in language through his mind. Andrew had stubbed his cigarette out on the windowsill, looking as if he expected a translation and knowing he wasn’t going to get one.

“Looks like this puzzle is going to be even bigger than I first thought,” he mused, and as subsequently ignored.

“I understand,” Kevin said, “but I don’t care. You agreed to this, so you can’t back out now. Andrew takes his promises very seriously.”

“I did not agree to this,” Neil spat, “I agreed to humouring your twisted fantasy, but you can’t claw your way back to the top with only one hand, cripple.”

Kevin’s face twisted in fury, but before he could advance on Neil Andrew was suddenly there.

“Now now Kevin,” he said, his indifferent tone only ratcheting up the pressure in the room, “don’t do anything you might regret, remember your master plan? It won’t work if you strangle his vocal chords shut.”

Miraculously, Kevin did back down, which gave Neil an opening to escape before things got worse. He pushed past Aaron and Nicky who were still in the doorway, and started to make his way downstairs.

“Remember, practice at half 12,” Andrew called after him.

Neil didn’t reply, and even though he’d just got back from a jog he almost blew his legs out on his run.


	4. Chapter 4

Sweat poured down Neil’s face in rivulets, drops of it getting in his eyes so that they stung; his vision going blurry. He closed the front door behind him and leant against it, letting it support him as he sank to the ground and stretched out his aching limbs. Neil hear a sharp cough from vaguely above him, and he wiped the sweat from his eyes in order to see the figure towering over him. Kevin stood there, stance wide and arms crossed; he obviously hadn’t forgotten the slight from earlier but he still seemed to have calmed down. 

“When I say practice is at 12:30, I mean be ready by 12:30,” he curled his lip and angled his head so that he looked down his nose at Neil, “you don’t even look like you’re fit to hold the neck of a guitar, let alone the entire thing. Pathetic.”

“I don’t know if you know this, Kevin,” Neil managed to wheeze out, “but you don’t hold a guitar with your legs.”

Kevin completely ignored him and turned away.

“Shower, you’re disgusting,” he said, “I expect you to be downstairs in 10 minutes.”

He left, presumably to go down to the basement, and Neil grabbed some clothes before making his way to the bathroom. He took a few minutes to thoroughly check the roots of his hair, and once satisfied with his findings he turned the shower up to its highest setting and stepped under the spray; the water scalding his skin before he got used to the high heat, after which he relaxed and let the warmth seep into his tense muscles. Neil took his time, completely ignoring Kevin’s warning of 10 minutes, before dressing himself and reluctantly making his way down to the basement.

It was quite a large space, and it separated into two sections. There was a metal pole in the middle of the room with some curtains parted to the side, which led Neil to believe that Kevin sometimes actually divided the space. Neil didn’t pay much notice to Kevin’s side of the room, only that it was sparsely furnished with a bed, a desk, and some bookshelves. Neil turned his attention to the band side of the room, with held a variety of instruments and musical technology that were very expensive-looking for a band that hadn’t even been signed yet. His eyes then darted to the side of the room, where his ‘band-mates’ were sitting on a couch.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Andrew said. Kevin was too busy puttering around over by his desk to acknowledge Neil’s entrance, and Aaron and Nicky were sizing Neil up warily, no doubt remembering the morning and Neil’s flagrant display of skills he shouldn’t have.

There was a whirring sound over where Kevin was, and when it died down he walked over to them, clutching a stack of sheets in his hands. His face had taken a different expression than it had when he greeted Neil at the front door; right now he was all business. He began handing out sheets, three apiece to each member.

“First order of business,” he began, “Aaron and Nicky haven’t heard Neil sing, and Andrew and I haven’t heard Neil sing at his full potential. I’ve printed off sheet music for three songs, discuss among yourselves and pick one.”

Neil scanned the songs they were given; he knew the tunes of all three, albeit vaguely. Even so, with the sheet music he could sing them.

“Can we not have some, I don’t know, relevant songs?” asked Nicky sarcastically; he was ignored. Aaron wasn’t even looking at the sheets, he was looking at his brother, who was crumpling two of his pages into a ball.

“This one,” he said, holding up the song that was titled ‘Arsonist’s Lullaby’, by an artist named Hozier. Neil was sure he’d overheard someone on the bus talking about this one, how it was on a show or something, before playing it for their friend. Neil didn’t make out the lyrics at the time but he knew the beat as quite slow, almost soothing. Without discussion, Nicky and Aaron rose from their seats and ambled over to their respective instruments. Kevin was already over by his keyboard, fiddling with a boxy-looking thing with dials and buttons that Neil assumed was for his synths. Neil wasn’t familiar with the term however he figured he;d find out what they were quite soon. Neil admitted to himself that he was pretty interested in seeing how Kevin played now, with his hand too stiff to play smoothly like he once did.

He made his way over to his own microphone as everyone began testing their instruments; Aaron knocking out small beats, Nicky gently going over short riffs, and Andrew plucking out a note or two before standing there silently, eyes eventually settling on Neil. Neil felt naked standing there without his guitar, underneath Andrew’s blank gaze. He doubted it would’ve been any use to him anyway, as everyone’s instruments were electric.

The room was quiet, and Neil heard the soft clacking of sticks before Kevin began to play. Not much, just a few repeating notes, and they were backed by a kind of reverb that set Neil’s teeth on edge. He turned to see Kevin playing predominantly with his left hand, his attention not on the keyboard but on the box machine to his right. He did this for three bars and was on his fourth when Neil saw Aaron raise his drumsticks, prompting Neil to turn back to his microphone, and in his peripheral vision Neil saw Andrew and Nicky similarly readying their own instruments. Neil scanned over the sheet music again, heard the warning sounds of Aaron’s beginning beat and Nicky’s heavy riff, and then he began to sing, keeping a close eye on the lyrics and the melody as he did so.

_“When I was a child, I heard voices_  
_Some would sing and some would scream_  
_You'll soon find you have few choices_  
_I learned the voices died with me”_

Neil felt a memory struggle to the surface of his mind, recognisable as a scene from before he ran. His mother had put him in his bedroom and told him to stay,that his father had some visitors and he had to be quiet. Neil had nodded obediently, he was used to this, used to being quiet.

His mother would disappear and Neil stayed alone in his room, sitting on his bed, and then he’d start to hear the screams. Neil was used to this as well- more often than not his father would have guests over that screamed loud enough for the sound to reach Neil’s room on the floor above. Neil hated it, not necessarily because he knew it was a person screaming in pain, but because afterwards his father was drunk on bloodlust, and it was his most volatile time. So Neil had to sit, be quiet, be good. Sometimes it wasn’t enough, but it was the best bet he had.

Neil knew he was getting too into the song, his mouth running on autopilot and letting too many of his dredged-up emotions spew out into his voice, but for the life of him he couldn’t stop it. He was in an underwater vortex pulling him down, down; deeper and deeper. He was a ship caught in a storm, powerless and waiting to be dashed upon the rocks.

_“When I was 16 my senses fooled me_  
_Thought gasoline was on my clothes_  
_I knew that something would always rule me_  
_I knew this scent was mine alone”_

The scene in his mind changed to the edge of a highway; he was staggering and retching, the scent of gasoline and burnt flesh clinging to him like some type of fucked up cologne. He needed to leave, needed to get out; his father’s men would be here any moment. He fell to his knees, he threw up, he kept going. He knew he couldn’t be Alex anymore, he tried to think of a new name but all he could dredge up was muttered promises and Abram.

_“All you have is your fire_  
_And the place you need to reach_  
_Don't you ever tame your demons_  
_But always keep them on a leash”_

Neil was locked in his memories, places and names flashing through his mind one after the other. He hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped singing, or the silence that had descended on the room. He was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack until he heard his name. His head snapped up, pupils blown wide, and he released his death grip on his mic, turning to face the rest of the band in a whirl.

“He looks like he’s about to throw up,” Aaron commented, setting his drumsticks down.

“He looks like a startled rabbit,” Andrew remarked

“I’m fine, got too into it,” Neil murmured, breath still coming a little bit too fast for his liking; he clenched he fist and forced himself to calm.

“Kevin, where did you find this kid?” Nicky exclaimed, “mysterious, attractive, not to mention the voice. He could really be something.”

“He’ll have to stop being so pitchy first,” Kevin deadpanned, and that finally fully snapped Neil out of his stupor.

“Aaron, you’re playing like you’re trying to beat your instrument to death; Nicky stop hunching your shoulders; Andrew, at least try to stay on-beat. And Neil, memorise the words- you look like a short-sighted child reading their speech assignment. Now, again.”

The second time around was easier for Neil, now that he knew what to expect; the third even more so. Each play of the song finished with Kevin criticizing or straight-up insulting them. The practice ended with Andrew unceremoniously putting down his bass and moving to sit on the couch, where he reached over and started to rifle through an unassuming, small black book around the size of his face.

“Longer than he usually lasts,” commented Aaron as he put his drumsticks down. Kevin huffed but moved out from behind his setup as everyone but him shuffled towards the couch. Neil chose to stand just to the edge of it, hip close to touching the arm, though not quite doing so.

“We’re going to develop a range of covers we can play,” Kevin said, looking all the parts a commanding officer, “I’m going to be getting us a gig soon, so we need to be ready by then.”

Neil’s pulse jumped from both fear and excitement at the mention of a gig, but he pushed the feelings down.

“Not only that, but I want everyone to start writing original songs, and I mean everyone. Originals help to make a mark, and it garners more interest from record labels. It doesn’t have to be a masterpiece, just something I can take and work with. Really all I need are semi-decent lyrics, and I doubt any of you can fuck that up.”

No one responded, and Kevin tutted slightly.

“Get out of my room,” he said, turning around and walking away, “I’m going to the gym.”

Aaron and Nicky filed out of the room after him, and Neil was about to leave too until he felt something hit his back. His hackles were immediately raised, and he twisted to snap at the perpetrator, until he saw the projectile for what it was- the black book that Andrew had in his hands just moments ago. Neil picked it up and opened it to the front page, on which someone had written in a jagged font ‘Neil’s songwriting book. If lost, return to the living room couch.’

Neil looked up warily, and raised an eyebrow. Andrew looked back nonchalantly. 

“What better way to deliver a truth than through song? It’s all the rage in musicals.”

Neil narrowed his eyes, looked at the no-longer-unassuming black book once more, and instead of throwing it back in Andrew’s face like he wanted, he took it out of the room with him and began carefully plotting his next movements.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First song is Use Me by Sam Dew (watch The Get Down on Netflix!!!)  
> Second song is Good Side In by The Japanese House (pretty much all the songs written by the members of CD will be by TJH lmao)

Neil tossed the black book onto Kevin’s desk, the leather-bound pad skidding across the wood and startling Kevin out of his trance. It was a habit of Kevin’s to watch full streams of various gigs at full volume, rendering him unaware of anything going on around him- it was something he insisted Neil did as well in order to familiarise himself with ‘stage presence’. Neil recognised the video he was watching as Queen at Live Aid, an ‘absolute classic that revolutionised music’ as he described it.

“What is this?” Kevin asked, taking off his headphones and looking at the book as if trying to put a curse on it.

“You asked us to write a song,” Neil replied, faking his nonchalance.

In truth, Neil had spent the week since Kevin had put out that particular request trying to find a loophole, though Andrew’s eyes constantly keeping watch on him made Neil nervous and jumpy. Neil had no choice but to write something with enough truth in it to get Andrew off his back, but vague enough that it wouldn’t alert Kevin to his actual identity.

Kevin’s eyes lit up in interest and he put his headphones on the desk so he could pick up the book. Neil had written and re-written the lyrics so many times that it took Kevin a bit to find the finished version, which in the end only consisted of two verses and a chorus. 

“Not good, but not bad either,” Kevin said after he finished studying the lyrics and the small, exploratory notes that were doodled in the margins of the pages in order to find the tune, “it’s something I can work with.”

Kevin paused for a second and reviewed the lyrics again, a slight frown on his face, “the lyrics are cryptic and, quite frankly, a little depressing, but the melody can only be described as something… almost hopeful? Why the contrast?”

Neil frowned, “I wouldn’t call it hopeful, I don’t think that’s what hope sounds like.” If Neil had to chose, hope would sound more quiet, more promising.

“What would you call it then?”

“Something like anticipation.”

Kevin hummed and started setting up programs on his computer. “I’ll need you later for a demo, but for now I’ll work on the sheet music to get a more constructed piece. I don’t care what you do until then, but come when I call you.” 

Neil rolled his eyes in what Kevin took as an agreement, and left Kevin to his own devices. Technically, not counting Kevin, Neil had the whole house to himself for the moment- Nicky was at his waiting job, and Andrew and Aaron had disappeared together a few hours ago without a word, which was strange to Neil as he hadn’t really seen the twins spend upwards of ten minutes together since he arrived. 

Neil settled on watching a movie, and was halfway through Mad Max before the front door slammed open, yielding to the five-foot force that was a pissed off Aaron Minyard. Andrew followed behind him, strolling at a leisurely pace with his hands in his pockets, face void of any emotion but his eyes tracking the movements of his brother.

Aaron made to go upstairs, but quick as a whip Andrew’s hand shot out and grasped Aaron’s wrist. Aaron turned back towards Andrew with a furious expression, but Andrew only said, “basement,” before pivoting on his heel and walking towards the basement door. Aaron clenched and unclenched his fists a few times before cursing and following Andrew. Neil didn’t think as he turned the TV off and shadowed them downstairs. 

Sometimes, often during the night, Neil would hear sounds of quiet bass float up from the basement, at times furious and at others achingly slow. It seemed that Aaron had the same thought in his mind as he walked straight over to his drumset. Neil spared a glance at Kevin, but he was in his own world; his headphones blocking out everything around him.

“Close the curtains,” Andrew said, gesturing to the curtains that closed to separate Kevin’s room from the band’s room as he moved to get his bass. Neil went to close them, startled that Andrew didn’t immediately tell him to leave, and then sat down on the couch, admittedly curious as to what the twins would do.

Aaron was starting to furiously roll out a few premature drum solos while Andrew set up, the beats fractured and raw. Andrew turned around and watched for a moment before speaking.

“Use me, the Sam Dew cover.”

Aaron stopped his drumming briefly to give a short nod, then started tapping on one of his cymbals- not gently, but also not as feverishly as before. Andrew soon joined in with his bass, the notes at first seeming random and misplaced before melding into a recognisable beat. Neil felt a tension fill the room; the calm before the storm, a break in the clouds before everything turned to chaos. And then Andrew stepped forward into the microphone, and started to sing. 

_My friends feel it's their appointed duty,_  
_To tell me, all you want to do is use me_  
_My answer to all that use me stuff_  
_Is I want to spread the news that if it feels this good getting used_  
_Just keep on using me ‘till you use me up_

Andrew’s voice was soft and smoky, a little lower and raspier than Neil’s. When he heard it something in Neil started and settled, and Neil wondered why Andrew wasn’t the lead singer of Collateral Damage when he sounded like this. 

_My brother sat me right down and he talked to me_  
_He told me I ought not let you just walk on me_  
_He meant well but when our talk was through_  
_I said brother if you only knew that it didn't concern you_  
_Just keep on using me until you use me up_

Aaron lifted his lip in a snarl when Andrew finished the verse, and then started beating his drums as if his life depended on it, Andrew keeping up with his bass beat for beat. It was almost like a battle, neither one willing to give up ground but also acting in tandem with each other. 

It ended on a crescendo, Aaron suddenly stopping altogether, and Andrew singing the last notes on an almost breathy exhale. They both breathed heavily for a moment, perspiration beading Aaron’s forehead, before Aaron stood, put away his drumsticks, and left the room. Neil noticed that his gait was much calmer than previous, as if all his anger and frustration bled out of him during the performance. Andrew watched him go and absent-mindedly plucked at the strings of his bass. 

“Why don't you sing for the band?” Neil vocalised, and Andrew turned to him with a blank stare.

“I don't do anything I don't want to do,” Andrew replied, and Neil accepted it as the only answer he was going to get, as much of a non-answer it was. Andrew’s fingers stilled, and Neil turned around to see Kevin slide the curtains apart and step into the room, laptop in hand and headphones around his neck.

“I’ve finished the sheet music,” Kevin said, directly addressing Neil as if no time had passed from their previous conversation, “I’ll need you to play now so I can get a demo.”

“Demo?” Andrew asked, although it wasn’t really phrased as a question.

“I finished writing, as per your suggestion,” Neil replied, sending a vaguely appraising look from Andrew his way.

“A piece of unexpected honesty.”

“How could I not with you breathing down my neck all the time?”

Andrew snorted and Kevin continued as if they hadn’t spoken, “The sheet music is mainly for the guitar, you can do whatever you had in mind with the vocals as long as it fits.”

Neil was relieved he got to play his guitar; he hadn’t played it since he got here and his fingers were itching for the string’s metallic scrape. He moved to retrieve his guitar and stand behind the mic that Andrew had just vacated in favor of the couch. Neil skimmed over the sheet music and made sure his guitar was in tune before signalling he was ready.

“Go on then Boy Wonder, show us what you’ve got,” Andrew quipped, and so Neil did.

_And it started to rain, but I kept my cool_  
_I feel a fool_  
_She's just hurt and in vain_  
_She's between the two_

_I put up a fight, it's a light hit_  
_I turned my good side in_

The main danger of the song was that even though Neil had kept it vague as possible, he didn’t pull his punches on the truths he did divulge. Neil did things on the run that he had to do to survive, and more than one person’s blood was on his hands. If Andrew presumes that this part of him was dangerous to his family, Neil knew that he was done for. 

_As she started to change, I remained the same_  
_I played the game_  
_Not too much, just a stain_  
_I don't mind the wait ___

_I put up a fight, it's a light hit_  
_I turned my good side in_  
_And as we stayed up, I could feel it_  
_The route, in the road, as the race begins_

__He repeated the last chorus twice, the addition alluding to Neil’s time in the run- and giving a nudge to the fact he wasn’t doing it of his own free will. In a way, he was racing against time, trying to beat his father and his father’s men. As the last notes vanished, Neil looked up and locked eyes with Andrew, who stared right back at him, his gaze piercing. Kevin seemed unaware or immune to the tension hanging thick in the air, as he continued as normal, clicking a few things on his computer and muttering to himself._ _

__“That’ll do for now,” he said, “I’m going to fuck around with this but I’ll probably retake a couple times more so be around,” he said to Neil, before disappearing back behind the curtains and into his room. Neil calmly set his guitar down as Andrew stood up, and when he walked out of the room Neil knew that he was expected to follow. Andrew made a beeline for his room, going straight for the carton of cigarettes thrown haphazardly on his desk. He shook one out and lit it, taking a drag before letting the smoke run out of his mouth as he spoke._ _

__“Are you going to explain it?” Andrew asked, drumming his fingers against the wood._ _

__“You asked for truth,” Neil replied, “and I gave it to you. Now you have to keep up your end of the bargain and leave me alone.”_ _

__“You didn't give me an answer.”_ _

__“This isn't multiple choice.”_ _

__“And yet you’re a puzzle I still have to solve.”_ _

__“Why can’t you just mind your own business?”_ _

__“Neil,” Andrew said, pointing the tip of his cigarette at him, “as soon as Kevin became interested in you, you became my business.”_ _

__Andrew looked thoughtful for a moment, and the drumming stopped._ _

__“How about we play a game? Truth for a truth. I’ll write a song, and you tell me what your one means. Deal?”_ _

__Neil thought for a moment, considering his options. If he went along with Andrew’s game it would mean that he and Neil would be on almost even footing, as long as Neil played his cards right. It was probably the best option he had._ _

__“Deal,” Neil replied, and the corner of Andrew’s mouth twitched up._ _

__“I’m glad we could come to an agreement.”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I'm not dead!! I'm super sorry for the break, my motivation kinda went down the toilet for a bit- but I'm back and I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> I probably won't be able to maintain an update schedule of once per eek, but I'll try to at least make them regular (I've got a very busy few moths ahead!)  
> I also may get back into the no motivation situation again so if I'm ever slacking on updates just hit me up on my tumblr (striderssunglasses) and hassle me/send me songs that remind you of aftg!!! Bc that super motivates me (it's what made me start this in the first place).  
> And thank you to everyone who's kudos'd/commented so far it means a lot <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments (especially comments) are always appreciated! Find me on tumblr @striderssunglasses


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